by Jim Stitzel | Sep 30, 2024 | Stories
The key didn’t work. Which was confusing because he’d made the thing himself, and it had worked the first few times he’d used it. The keyhole in the back of her head hadn’t changed. He was sure of that. But then, he was sure the key would still...
by Jim Stitzel | Sep 28, 2024 | Stories
The children were shocked. Literally. The bolt of electricity that ran through them should have killed them all. But these children were no ordinary children. They were the children of a demon. Their systems were overloaded, yes, but they were also turbocharged. Their...
by Jim Stitzel | Sep 27, 2024 | Stories
The wind howls outside my bedroom window. A tree branch, swaying in the wind, raps against the glass, tck tcking in an irregular rhythm. There are voices in that tempest, voices that I can just barely make out. They speak to me of times long past, of errors made and...
by Jim Stitzel | Sep 26, 2024 | Stories
I have a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach. That’s where it lives. The critter, if you can call it that. It burrowed into my torso, and it took up residence there. All I can see of it is its mouth, sticking out of my abdomen, and it is insatiably...
by Jim Stitzel | Sep 21, 2024 | Stories
The crow talks to me. It sits on the road sign, with its black eyes, its black beak, and its black feathers, and it speaks to me. I don’t understand the words — they’re in bird, of course. But the words come, all the same. They take up space inside my mind,...
